Monday, June 29, 2015

Lunch with Mom and a Quick Outfit

I had lunch with my mom the other day and randomly decided to take photos, so instead of letting them rot on my computer, I decided to share them on my blog.

Right now, I don't really consider it a big deal to go out to lunch with my mom. Lunch dates with my mom are typically a last minute decision--something we decide to do off-handedly because we're both bored and hungry. It's weird to think that in a couple of months (when I move out), lunch with my mom will become an occasion.

Cantonese restaurant
Red bean and milk/ice/cream/coconut concoction
(clockwise from top) sweet and sour fish (sauce on the side), beef and rice noodle stir fry, weird seafood tofu thing that we didn't expect
store with cute but overpriced Japanese things that I loved as a little girl
Class 302--best place for snow ice
interior design is based on Taiwanese classrooms

colorful piggy lights (you can see that they're pigs in the picture above)
much variety, very tea

forgot to take photo before first bites--oops

top: Kohl's; shorts: American Rag; bag: Coach; shoes: Guess

Sunday, June 28, 2015

Songs I Like

I don't know if anyone cares, but here's a list of songs I like at the moment with links to YouTube if you want to listen.

  1. -Muse
  2. -Muse
  3. -White Town
  4. -Meghan Trainor
  5. -Against the Current
  6. -Against the Current
  7. -Against the Current
  8. -Muse
  9. -Muse
  10. -The Weeknd
  11. -Lana Del Rey
  12. -Fall Out Boy
  13. -Fall Out Boy
  14. -Fall Out Boy
  15. -We the Kings
Wow, that list grew faster than I thought it would. I'm sure there are a few that I'm leaving out, but fifteen is a good number.

Like any of the same songs? Any new recommendations? Let me know!

<Lucy Cartin

Saturday, June 27, 2015

My Eyebrows Hurt

Because I'm Asian, my eyelids kind of fold over my lash line. On the occasion that I dare to try out an interesting eyeliner style, if I want to actually see the intricate little design I drew (usually a failed cat eye), then I must raise my eyebrows to lift my eyelids up. This sounds ridiculous, I know. It gets worse because I'm ridiculous. I do this so often (whenever I pass by a mirror, for example) that by the end of the day, my eyebrows hurt from being raised so much.

Just another stupid little thing that I wanted to share.

<Lucy Cartin

Friday, June 26, 2015

Dreaming of Elegance

sunglasses: BP; top: Cotton On; skirt: Forever 21; 
bag (below): Dooney&Bourke; shoes: Nine West

Today's one of those days where I don't have anything particularly interesting or intelligent to say, so I'm just going to do a little update on my life!

Last night I went to see one of my dear friends perform in a community production of Les Miserables (hence the flowers). The theater was very intimate--so intimate, in fact, that I was like two feet away from the stage. But that just meant I got to see my darling girl whore around up close (she plays a prostitute, and "whore around" are her words).

It's incredibly hot here. Literally, I'm sitting in the dark because I can't bear to open the windows and let in a smidgen of heat.

Every morning when I wake up, my upper body burns because I hit the driving range three days ago (after two years off of golf). As painful as it was (this pain refers to seeing how bad I've gotten at golf), I enjoyed myself. I went with two of my friends who also used to be on the golf team, so we had loads of fun being a threat to the safety of those around us. One of my friends almost annihilated two guys in the stalls next to us, but guess what? They bonded because of her! By the end of the night, they were exchanging phone numbers. How cool is that? A silver lining.

Have a nice weekend!

<Lucy Cartin

Wednesday, June 24, 2015


 sunglasses: BP; "choker"; ribbon from Michael's; top: Net;
skirt: H&M; bag: Esprit; shoes: Converse

Eighteen. An age that bears a lot of weight—along with sixteen and twenty one. However, unlike sixteen, eighteen is not pink banners and pop music blaring from the speakers of the community center’s rec room. Eighteen carries, I suppose, a sense of maturity—but not in the way twenty one does. Twenty one is shots all around, an age where Mom and Dad are no longer the monarchs of your life, adulthood, independence. Eighteen is something else. Eighteen is special. 

When people sing about being eighteen, their tones convey nostalgia: longing for a time of golden afternoons with friends, freedom from reality, youth in its purest form. Their voices reminisce about torn jeans, cold drinks, and endless laughter. Their words depict fluttering hearts, secure embraces, first loves. Eighteen is picturesque.

Eighteen is overhyped.

Sure, I can ask my mom for the car and drive out to lunch with my friends, but it’s nothing like the books, movies, or music videos. For one thing, most of my friends are too self-conscious to sing along with the radio, and even though I choose to sing along anyway, I can’t sing at the top of my lungs while paying attention to the road. If I want to sing and not crash the car, I have to settle for a controlled volume. And don’t get me started with rolling the windows down. In Southern California, unless you want to let out all the AC and melt, you keep those windows shut. Maybe you can roll them down at night, but even then you have the wind slapping you in the face—which is extremely distracting, especially while I drive. Not to mention, driving at night with the windows down—is no one else thinking about a demon hand reaching in to tickle their ears? Because I am.

Eighteen and still afraid of monsters, ha.

I will admit that any conjectures I form about being eighteen are somewhat premature. I still have about ten months of being eighteen, and seeing as most of those months will be spent at university, I’m sure a lot will happen. Maybe I’ll make an appearance at a few parties. Maybe I’ll meet some life-changing people. Maybe I’ll fall in love.

Eighteen has endless possibilities.

Before my next birthday, I could go on a crazy adventure. Imagine: it’s Friday night, and boring old me has a handful of new university friends with heads full of ideas more insane than my own. A group of college kids, looking effortlessly cool, taking on a city full of bright lights, flaunting their youth. We saunter into a restaurant full of famous Instagrammers wearing sunglasses at night—at night—and fill the place with our infectious laughter. Okay, this is going to sound lame, but I don’t know what else to add to my crazy adventure because I’ve never been on one. You get the gist. It’ll be cool.

Within a year, I could meet my first love. I’m on campus, sitting under a sassy tree (it’s sassy because it’s throwing shade, heh). Glancing up, I lock eyes with him. He smiles, and I instantly notice how every part of him is pretty much perfect. We both stand up and awkwardly walk towards each other—our first conversation. Coincidentally, we love all the same things, start talking, and don’t notice when the sun goes down. Being the gentleman he is, he offers to walk me back to my room, and we chat the entire way back. Soon, we reluctantly realize that he has to return to his own dorm. He turns to leave, but not before asking me to marry him. Wait. I think I skipped a few steps.

Eighteen is starting to sound pretty good.

Sure, living on my own means taking responsibility for myself and falling in love means allowing my heart to be broken, but I think I’m ready to finally experience everything—both the ups and the downs. Over the past eighteen years, I’ve learned to handle myself, make good decisions, have strength.

I think I’m ready to be eighteen.

<Lucy Cartin

Monday, June 22, 2015

My Phangirl Hopes

1. When I go to college, I want to make friends with a fellow phangirl so we can obsess about Dan and Phil together. Then, in the summer, we can go to VidCon together. I'll be like, "You can stay at my house!" (I live pretty close to the location), and she'll (or he'll, who knows, maybe my friend will be a phanboy) be all like "Omigod then we should go together! It'll be super cool even though we'll be surrounded by middle and high schoolers!" Man that would be so cool. I'm probably going to be very disappointed though, because I imagine not many college girls still obsess over Dan and Phil. Will I? Yeah, probably. I'm a wee bit immature.

2. Dan and Phil start their book tour in the fall of 2015, and this tour will eventually come to America. The university I'm attending is pretty popular so maybe they'll have a show at my school!!! Or at least near it. My little phangirl heart would explode.

Summer Daze

sunglasses: BP; top: Cotton On; shorts: American Eagle; 
bag: BCBGeneration; shoes: Born

I'm officially one week into summer, but somehow, I've managed to make the week seem so much longer (in a good way). Part of this results from me indulging in much more fiction than I usually do because, on top of watching Gossip Girl nonstop, I've been working my way through a hearty stack of young adult novels. With so much going on all at once, but only in the stories--not in my actual life, my sense of time has been seriously screwed up. As a result, I've reached this mindset where I live day-to-day instead of my usual plan everything, think of next month's plans. I don't think I've ever been here before, but I really like it. I'm so relaxed it's weird.

Compared to my usual outfits, which require a multitude of layers and a delicate balance, this look has a laid-back vibe. Just a light tank top and denim shorts--a classic. Much like my recent mood, this outfit is very free, easy-going, and simple.

<Lucy Cartin

wow my feet are awful. sorry.

Sunday, June 21, 2015

The Glass of Perspective

Honestly, people who see the glass as half empty could have a valid point. When they start complaining that it's a quarter empty--then they have a problem.

Friday, June 19, 2015

Waldorf x Kuo

headband: Henri Bendel; sunglasses: Lauren Conrad; ribbon bow tie: Michael's;
shirt: H&M; dress: Forever 21; bag: free from Teen Vogue; shoes: LoveD

My brother bought me the first five seasons of Gossip Girl on DVD as a graduation gift (THANK YOU), so naturally, I've spent the past few days watching it nonstop. Even though I already know the general plot (I read all the books in middle school and watched season 6 a few years ago when it was airing on television), each episode is still extremely exciting and suspenseful--pretty much all because of chair. Chuck and Blair are my everything, and I keep watching in hopes that they'll be together in the next episode. #chairislife Blair is my idol, Chuck is the coolest person alive, and chair is the dream.

Because I've been so addicted lately, I decided to sprinkle a bit of Blair Waldorf into my outfit today. My black leather headband with rose gold hardware is a bit of an homage to Blair's signature headbands in the early seasons. I tied a black ribbon around my collar to resemble the tie she wore with her school uniform, and the button up shirt provides a somewhat preppy vibe. By combining two exotic prints with a feminine silhouette, I added in elements of my own personal style.

You know you love me. xoxo,

<Lucy Cartin

By the way, this headband is an extremely kind graduation gift from one of my teachers. Not only is it beautiful, but it's incredibly considerate, has a lot of meaning, and I love it so much.

Wednesday, June 17, 2015


From a young age, students adopt competitive habits. Even in elementary school, I remember my classmates asking around for each other's latest test scores to figure out who earned the highest score, who was the smartest, the best.

Before I knew any better, I would join in--piping up with my score in hopes of figuring out who did the best, in hopes that it was me. Because life is realistic and not idealistic, it was never me. This didn't start affecting me until seventh, though. Specifically, my Algebra 1 Honors class. Algebra happened to be a good subject for me, so the top score started to be me--and not too inconsistently, either. However, as expected, it couldn't always be me, and that's what got to me.

I'm going to take a second to explain my competitiveness. For the most part, I'm considerably laid back when it comes to competition. I am completely capable of simply participating for the fun, not for the win. The problem arises when I am given a little taste of victory. It's like giving me a chocolate cake but only allowing me to take a bite. If you're going to give me a bite, then sorry, I'm taking the whole damn cake. My entire freshman year of speech and debate went by without me becoming particularly competitive. Our team was a fetus, and I was in a category that didn't particularly suit me, so I didn't find much success. Hence, I was able to enjoy each competition without becoming too invested. However, in sophomore year, I found a category that a really vibed with, and on my second competition of the year, I broke to finals, and that was it. From that moment on, each speech and debate competition was a challenge that I took on with everything I had.

But I was talking about school.

Throughout high school, I rarely shared my test scores, and no one outside my family knows my SAT score. In this way I hoped to detach myself from the mad competition that my classmates decided to curse themselves with. For the most part, separating myself from the stupid competition worked, but that didn't stop my classmates from pestering me about my grades. By the way, I want to say something to emphasize how ridiculous competition in high school is. My younger brother is friends with a lot of upperclassmen (because he's just that cool) who happen to be my classmates. There are people, who I barely know, who ask my brother for my test scores because I wouldn't discuss them. I mean seriously, how desperate are you to have a chance at being better than me? After awhile, my brother just started asking for their scores and telling them I scored higher--just to mess with them. Gotta love my brother.

I hated constantly competing with my classmates over test scores and other stupid things. Whereas speech and debate tournaments were once a month and an intended place of competition, school was every day, and the competition was unspoken but ubiquitous. That's what I hate about high school. Everyone acts like she's best friends with everyone, but you all know that you're competitors. And for what? A spot at the same college? The teacher's favorite? The highest grade in the class? These things always seem incredibly important, but they're not, because in a few years, months even, none of this will matter. And although in the past I've been able to say these words, I'm starting to truly accept the truth in these words.

Hopefully college is a place where I can finally measure my success and self-worth by my own standards rather than class rankings and test scores.

My hopes aren't to high, though.

I'm optimistic, not dumb.

<Lucy Cartin

Monday, June 15, 2015

Disneyland June 2015

 Here are some photos from my class trip to Disneyland! It's not particularly well thought out, but everyone enjoys Disneyland--or at least that was my thinking. Enjoy scrolling!